Free Ship of the Dead by James Jennewein Page B

caught in the storm?
    Was their faith so thin that one mishap had turned them against him? Had they forgotten all the previous times Dane had led them successfully through all manner of danger? What should he do? Take a vote every time a difficult decision had to be made? If so, they’d never get to Déttmárr’s. It was they who should apologize, Dane realized. Would their whining help them reach the old smith any quicker with the apple? No! If there was hardship along the way, so be it. Bringing Astrid back was worth any suffering.
    The trail descended gently into a valley, and they found a cave where they could shelter for the remainder of the night. After feeding and watering the horses, Drott and William picketed them inside the cave to keep them safe from roving bears and wolves. Jarl built a healthy fire and they all hung their wet clothes to dry on ropes above it. Fulnir passed out portions of dried fish, flatbread, and hard cheese, and the weary travelers sat by the fire eating in grim silence, the air thick with unspoken recriminations.
    Dane was off by himself, brooding, wishing someone would start in with accusations about his poor leadership. Then he would show them. He would tell them they could all go spit in their hats and that he would take the golden apple and find Déttmárr on his own. One man could move faster than a group anyway. If they wanted to rest their backsides for a couple of days, then fine , they could catch up with him later.
    But no one said a word to him, all acting as if he weren’t even there. Dane finally gave up waiting for their criticism, took his blankets, and found a place to bed down. When they awoke, he wouldn’t be here, he vowed. He’d be far away with no one to worry about but himself. The last things he heard before slipping off to sleep were the faint little mouse farts that Fulnir often made while lying in his bedroll, and Dane was quick to add these to his growing list of things he wouldn’t miss.
    When Dane awoke later, the others were still snoring away in their blankets, all fast asleep. From the dying embers of the fire, he judged it was perhaps an hour before dawn. He quietly gathered his dried clothes and blankets and stuffed them into his pack. Carrying pack and saddle, he led his bridled horse out of the cave. As Dane saddled his mount under the cold night sky, the horse became suddenly skittish, snorting and pricking its ears as if catching the scent of carnivores. Dane’s hand went to the handle of his sword, and then he heard her voice.
    â€œWill you never stop?” Dane whirled and saw Astrid upon her celestial mount descending from above. As soon as the horse’s hooves touched ground, Astrid leaped off and stood before Dane, hands on hips, looking very put out. “Can you go one week without risking your life or someone else’s? Lut almost died!”
    â€œSo you’ve been watching us,” Dane said with a grin. “You just can’t keep away, can you?”
    Her lips pursed in dismay. “What lame scheme are you up to now?”
    â€œIt’s not my scheme, it’s Skuld’s,” Dane said, and he proceeded to tell her the whole story of why they were traveling to Déttmárr’s with one of Idunn’s apples, and how, once revived, the smith would make a special blade, and lastly, how Dane would use it to kill the draugr Thidrek and thereupon release Astrid from her oath to Odin. Fully expecting Astrid to be so overjoyed by the prospect of rejoining him that she’d leap ecstatically into his arms and cover him with kisses, he was therefore startled to find her staring at him with cold fury.
    â€œI thought I had made it clear to you. I don’t want you to risk lives for my sake. Take everyone and go home.”
    â€œHome? I have no home if you’re not there.”
    â€œOh, stop,” she said. “You still think I want to return? I don’t. I like being a